Wife, Mother, Musician, Teacher, Wanna-Be Gardener and FanFic Writer.
Devotee of Downton Abbey ,especially Lady Mary, ( Mary/Blake and Mary/Matthew), Julie Andrews, The Sound of Music, Mary Poppins, North and South, The Peanuts Gang, Once Upon a Time (Outlaw Queen and Captain Swan have captured my heart) and Broadway.

Also found on this blog: Game of Thrones, Castle, Pride and Prejudice, Persuasion, (and anything related to Jane Austen), and great music in general.

And University of Kentucky Basketball--GO CATS!

I love making new friends, so lets grab a cup of coffee and chat a while!

Install Theme

An Enchanting New Season is about to unfold.

(Source: a-world-of-our-very-own, via anewlifeanewway)

fairytaleasoldastime:

Rumplestiltskin + sweet smiles

Requested by lulices

(via rumplestiltskin)

Despite my eagerness to leave, my heart lifted whenever I walked through the encampment and a small part of me regretted my imminent escape.

(Source: margaeryestyrell, via lordgrantham)

dreadpiratekhan:

A Swedish woman hitting a neo-Nazi protester with her handbag. The woman was reportedly a concentration camp survivor. [1985]

Volunteers learn how to fight fires at Pearl Harbor [c. 1941 - 1945]

A 106-year old Armenian woman protecting her home with an AK-47. [1990]

Komako Kimura, a prominent Japanese suffragist at a march in New York. [October 23, 1917]

Erika, a 15-year-old Hungarian fighter who fought for freedom against the Soviet Union. [October 1956]

Sarla Thakral, 21 years old, the first Indian woman to earn a pilot license. [1936]

Voting activist Annie Lumpkins at the Little Rock city jail. [1961]  
(freakin’ immaculate)
Source with more wonderful photos

dreadpiratekhan:


A Swedish woman hitting a neo-Nazi protester with her handbag. The woman was reportedly a concentration camp survivor. [1985]

Volunteers learn how to fight fires at Pearl Harbor [c. 1941 - 1945]

A 106-year old Armenian woman protecting her home with an AK-47. [1990]

Komako Kimura, a prominent Japanese suffragist at a march in New York. [October 23, 1917]

Erika, a 15-year-old Hungarian fighter who fought for freedom against the Soviet Union. [October 1956]

Sarla Thakral, 21 years old, the first Indian woman to earn a pilot license. [1936]

Voting activist Annie Lumpkins at the Little Rock city jail. [1961]  

(freakin’ immaculate)

Source with more wonderful photos

(via generatingrhythm)

Sooooooooo tired.

Any volunteers to cook dinner tonight and do the dishes? Please….

I think the main sign of a good story for you is that it has to hurt. It has to dig deep into who you are.

— Guillermo Del Toro, Cabinet of Curiosities (via pavorst)

(via innocenceneverfound)

This woman who broke your heart…

(Source: swanjones, via excellent-show-of-patience)

vellaipookal:

"Why were you in Milton?"

"On business. I have a business proposition."

(via octoberinflorence)

“I’d doubt I’d ever forget meeting you.

(Source: lovelifelove2013, via intolerablystruck)

(x)

(Source: nikascott, via fponthedl)

Rude Awakening

thefoodofloveismusic answered: HG universe - A thirsty Mary gets up in the night. She passes a peacefully slumbering Charles, and can’t but watch him sleep. A crutch drops

I do hope you enjoy this, my friend!  And I hope you are having a most wonderful day. :D

Mary’s chest heaves, bouncing up and back into her mattress, her voice letting out an unattractive squeak that sounds unnaturally loud in her bedroom.

Damn it all. Hiccups.

Insomnia has been her personal instrument of torture tonight, and she has tried every possible cure, running out of sheep over an hour ago and blessings long before that. A clean, natural scent hits her squarely again, and she bites her lower lip, knowing fully well the real culprit for the dull throbbing between her thighs and inability to sleep. He is tan and dimpled, irritatingly handsome, too smart for her own good and lying right next to her. She moans into her pillow just before her body jerks in a yelp.

God—she wants to scream them away.

She had been nearly asleep, finally, just on the verge, and now this. She sucks in her breath, holding it and counting silently to herself. One, two, three, four, fi—

Another one hits, and she tries the process again, this time making it all the way to seven before…

Shit. This isn’t working well at all.

She looks beside her, and sees that he is sleeping like the dead. The peaceful expression on his face is too breathtaking to disturb, and she stares at him for a moment, daring to stretch out a hand, to brush back a lock of dark hair, to trace the resting arch of his brow with the tip of her finger.

Idiot, she murmurs to herself, uncertain if she is describing him or herself. Her body jerks upwards yet again. Ugh.

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